Obsessions
by StarryEyesAndSkies
Summary: Trent, the cool, romantic musician, seemingly went off the rails in Total Drama Action. Why is that? This sort-of fix-it fic follows his life before Island all the way up through his elimination in Action. Enjoy! Also, it follows canon relationships but it's not a romance story.


A/N - I always see how everyone thinks Trent's character was destroyed in TDA. I have to agree. So, I wrote this sort of fix-it fic to try and explore some of his life before TDI up through his elimination on TDA. It'll explore the effects of OCD and things like that. Enjoy!

Trent considered himself to be a fairly average kid. He had lots of friends, loved music, and flickered the lights 9 times every night before he went to bed.

Alright, maybe not that last part. Still, he didn't think much of the lights. He just assumed it was one of those quirks that all of his friends had, but nobody openly discussed. As far as he knew, every other 4th-grader in his town was flickering the lights at the exact same time as him. If the issue stopped with the lights, he might still be doing it to this day, but it soon started to appear in other areas as well.

At first, it was the lights. Then, it was counting his steps and adjusting the radio in his mother's car so that the volume was always set to nine. His mother never seemed to notice, and if she never worried, why should he? When his grandfather gave him his toy train with only nine wheels, he took it as a sign that he was doing the right thing.

One day in class, he sat at his desk, tapping his pencil against the surface nine times. It was another quirk he recently picked up. His teacher noticed and reprimanded him.

"Trent, can you please stop that tapping? It's distracting the class."

"Oh. Sorry, Mrs. Reid."

Unfortunately, Trent only tapped his pencil four times before she told him to stop. He paused for a moment and realized that he had never actually stopped his rituals without completing them. What would happen? Probably nothing, right? They were just silly quirks he did for no real reason. Nothing bad would happen if he didn't finish it. Nobody would be upset at him, his teacher wouldn't yell at him, and his mother wouldn't die in a brutal, bloody car crash on her way home from work, all because he couldn't spare a few seconds to save her life by tapping his pencil five more times.

He had to finish it.

So, he waited until his teacher turned around and tapped his pencil three more times. She immediately whipped around again.

"Trent!"

He tried to give a face of perfect innocence.

"Yes, Mrs. Reid?"

"What did I tell you about tapping your pencil?"

"I didn't!"

"Yes, he did," a girl sitting near him yelled out.

"Don't lie, Trent," Mrs. Reid shook her head. "Now, if you tap that pencil one more time, I'm having you stay after school."

But he still had to tap it two more times to reach nine. There was no other option. So, with all eyes on him and Mrs. Reid daring him to do it, he resigned himself to his fate and rapped his pencil on the top of his desk not once, but twice. He could hear the collective gasps and chuckles coming from his classmates, and Mrs. Reid's eyes almost bugged out of her head.

"Alright," she growled, "see me after school."

Trent sulked in his seat, upset at what he had done, but secretly feeling relieved he hadn't killed his mother that day.

That afternoon, he stayed behind to speak with Mrs. Reid. After she made sure all of the other children left the classroom, she walked back to her desk and sat down, staring him down the entire time.

"Well, Trent," she cleared her throat and clasped her hands, "would you like to explain your actions today?"

He didn't know how to answer, so he just looked down at his lap.

"No?" She continued. "It was very out of character for you."

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Reid," he squirmed in his seat.

"Well," she sighed, "I'll write you a note home. Just have your mom sign it and bring it back."

Mrs. Reid took a notepad from her desk drawer and began to scribble out a message with one of her red pens.

"Here you go," she handed it over. "I'll see you tomorrow."

He took that as his cue to leave.

"Bye, Mrs. Reid." He stood up and grabbed his backpack, slinging it across his shoulders. When he was halfway out the door, he yelled a quick "thank you!" After all, he was a good kid, and not the type to provoke his teachers with sinister pencil-tapping.

"What did you do?" His mother looked at him in confusion after reading the note.

"Well, you know, I tapped my pencil a few times, and Mrs. Reid told me to stop. But I had to keep tapping until I reached nine. So I did that, and she was upset at me." His mom appeared even more confused by this answer. She furrowed her brow.

"Why did you need to tap it nine times?"

He didn't want to scare her by explaining how she almost died and he needed to do it in order to save her life, so he just gave a non-answer.

"I dunno, I just felt like I should."

"Well," she signed the note and handed it back to him, "don't do it again. You're a good kid, Trent. I know that. I don't want to receive another one of these notes."

"I won't, mom."

He returned the note the next day and tried to put the entire incident behind him. He still had his light flickering and counting and tapping, but he tried his best to not let it interfere with his schoolwork. If he absolutely had to tap, he would be as quiet as possible. When he spent the weekends at his dad's house, he made sure to never bring up the nine situation, and his mother never questioned him again. For a while, he made it work. He was still popular. He had good grades. He picked up guitar. According to some girls in his class, he might even be considered handsome. Somehow, he made it up through sixth grade without any major issues.

It was right around then that everything came crashing down around him.

It was a gradual change from being able to control himself to feeling like his life was falling apart at 12 years old. In hindsight, he probably didn't want to acknowledge it, and if he ignored it for as long as possible, maybe the issue would go away. The first time it happened, he thought nothing of it. During his nightly lightswitch routine, he always had to turn them on and off nine times, and that's how it had been for as long as he could remember. One night, however, he did it nine times, but the last switch didn't feel right. It felt… _off_, somehow. He switched it the correct number of times, but it felt like the last time didn't count. He considered leaving it, but then his mind started to race with what might happen. He never skipped his routine. If something bad happened, who's to say that it wouldn't be his fault? If his mother tripped downstairs and bashed her head on the ground and all of her blood began to spread out and he was the one to find her-

_Stop, stop, stop… I'll do it._

So, he flicked it one more time. Satisfied with his work, he went to bed.

That incident would go on to repeat itself. At first, he would do it one extra time, but then he figured out that he may as well repeat the whole routine. It went from a several minute ritual that grew more complex as he started to count the seconds on his clock and the number of steps to his bed, and he had to make sure all of those were perfect as well, and eventually it took him upwards of an hour from the time he shut his door to the time he actually made it to his bed.

At that point, he started putting off going to bed as late as possible just because he hated it so much. It wasn't long until his lack of sleep spilled over into his school life. He would fall asleep in class, and while he refused to let his grades slip, it was only a matter of time until his teachers started expressing concern.

Even his favorite hobby, music, began to suffer. Since he counted everything, he could not help himself from keeping track of the number of times he strummed his guitar. It just wasn't enjoyable anymore.

He didn't want to admit it, but not sleeping was starting to wear on him. Every once in a while, one of his many friends would ask him if he was alright, but he always brushed them off. How could he possibly explain? That he, the most popular kid in his grade, had to follow through on a set of rituals or something bad would happen? He didn't know how much longer he could keep it up.

On one night in particular, he stood in his bedroom past midnight. He tried to stay downstairs as long as he could, but he barely slept the night before and he could feel his eyes closing. So he found himself trying to figure out the lights, and he wanted so badly to stop and go to bed but he was so scared of causing any harm to his family or friends that he couldn't do it, which left him standing half-asleep in the dark, unable to do anything except flip the lights.

And he just couldn't get it right.

He tried to fight back the tears, but he was so tired that he couldn't do it, and before he knew it, he was hysterically sobbing on his bedroom floor. His mother ran into the room, completely bewildered. He was crying too hard to explain why he was upset, so she led him into the kitchen and had him sit at the table with a glass of water. After a few minutes, she tried to get him to explain.

"Alright, Trent, what happened? What's been going on?"

"I don't know."

"You can't say that. Obviously, you do know."

"It's nothing."

"Trent," she warned.

"You're going to laugh at me."

"I won't."

There was no use arguing with his mother. Not after she found him on the bedroom floor at one in the morning.

"I had to flick the lights nine times, but I couldn't get it to work."

"The lights weren't working?"

"No, I kept turning them on and off, but it didn't feel right. And I wanted to give up and go to sleep, but I couldn't do that either."

"Wait, I'm confused. You have to flip the lights nine times?"

"And then count my steps, and the numbers on the clock."

"But why?"

"I don't know," he started to tear up again, not wanting to explain. "I just have to."

She stared at him in confusion before shaking her head.

"How about you go back to bed and we can discuss this in the morning?"

His eyes widened in fear at the prospect of going back to his room.

"Or you could sleep in my room?" She offered. He nodded. So, she led him up to her bedroom and he lay down under the covers.

"Try and fall asleep, alright? I'll be back."

He closed his eyes, but could still faintly hear a phone conversation coming from the other room.

"Yes, I know what time it is… It's Trent… no, he's fine…I found him hysterical in his room, I don't know why… something about having to turn the lights on and off nine times? Has he ever mentioned that to you? Does he ever do that at your house? Right, that's what I thought…"

When she said it out loud, he understood how crazy the whole thing sounded, and he felt like a lunatic for doing it in the first place.

"I don't know, something hasn't been right with him lately… maybe it would be good for him to go see a therapist or something… I'm talking to him in the morning… I'll call you later… bye."

He heard her sigh, hang up the phone, and walk up the stairs to come to check on him, but he pretended to be asleep. He wanted to know if she meant what she said on the phone, but within a couple of minutes, he was sleeping for real.

The next morning, he sat in the car with his mother as she drove him to school, waiting for her to bring up the events of last night. She let him skip first period so he could sleep in longer, so he wasn't as tired as he thought he would be.

"Trent, I'm taking you to speak with someone next week. A therapist. She's supposed to be very nice."

"Why? I'm not crazy."

"I didn't say that you were. I just think it would be nice for you to have someone to talk to."

"But I can talk to you."

She chose her words carefully.

"Dr. Murphy can help you in ways that I can't. Promise me that you'll at least try?"

Never wanting to displease his mother, Trent agreed.

"Good. You're seeing her next Tuesday."

So next week, his mother dropped him off at Dr. Murphy's office. He didn't know what to expect when he went in. It was a room with an armchair, a couch, and a small table with a box of tissues. Dr. Murphy herself was sitting in the armchair with a notepad. She smiled at him.

"Hi, Trent. I'm Dr. Murphy. It's very nice to meet you. Why don't you have a seat?" She gestured to the couch. He did as he was told.

"So, tell me. What's been going on?"

He didn't know how to answer.

"Nothing really."

"Your mother mentioned something that happened last week? Why don't we start with that?"

He didn't want to recount the entire experience, but he also didn't want to upset Dr. Murphy.

"I had to flip the lights in my bedroom nine times, but it didn't feel right, and I was already pretty tired, so I was just upset about the entire thing."

"Why did you have to do it nine times?"

"I don't know. I just do."

"What would happen if you decided not to do it?"

"Something bad."

"Like what?"

"Like my mom… something bad would happen to her."

"So you think that if you don't flip the lights nine times, your mom will be harmed somehow?" She began scribbling on her notepad. He wanted to know what she was writing, but thought it would be rude to look.

"Or my dad, my friends… something like that."

He hated how ridiculous it sounded when he explained it out loud.

"Interesting… how is school? Do you have good grades? Your mom told me you have a lot of friends?"

He nodded, trying not to brag.

"I think I have a lot of friends. My grades are good."

"Do you have any trouble sleeping?"

"No. I'm tired a lot, though."

"Why is that?"

"Because of the lights," he thought it was obvious. "And the steps. It takes a while to do everything."

"How long?"

He shrugged.

"Maybe an hour?"

Dr. Murphy shook her head.

"That's a long time."

"Yeah."

And so the conversation went on. He explained how his parents were divorced, and he spent the weekends at his dad's house, and how his dad's girlfriend would sometimes be there. He recounted how he started learning guitar last year and really liked it, and that he tried to write his own songs but he wasn't that good at it yet. All in all, it wasn't a terrible experience. Before he knew it, time was up.

"Well, Trent, we're out of time. I'll see you next week?"

"Yes." He agreed. He left her office and met his mother, who was waiting outside.

"How was it?" She asked.

"It was fine."

"What did she say?"

"Nothing much. She just asked me a bunch of questions."

"Will you go back next week?"

"Yup."

"Well… good. I'm glad to hear that."

So next week, Trent went back to see Dr. Murphy, and he went the next week, and the one after that. On his fifth visit, she requested that his mother came into the room.

"Thank you for being here," Dr. Murphy greeted her. "As you both know, it's been about a month since Trent started seeing me, and I now understand the problem." She took two pamphlets and gave them each one. "I'm diagnosing him with OCD, Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder. It's an anxiety disorder that causes his rituals with counting."

Trent looked down at the pamphlet, not completely understanding Dr. Murphy's words.

"Where did he get it from?" His mother's first question.

"We don't really know," Dr. Murphy answered. "It's most likely a combination of factors."

"How do you get rid of it?" She asked.

"Well, there are several things we can do. If he continues to go to therapy, we can work on coping strategies and stopping his compulsions. I could also prescribe him medication…"

Trent's head snapped up at that.

"But we can take some time to discuss our options."

"Well… thank you for the pamphlets." His mother stood up and grabbed her jacket, Trent following her close behind.

"Call me if you have any questions," Dr. Murphy instructed.

"Will do." They left the office and sat for a moment in the car parked outside.

"You didn't say much in there," his mother remarked. He shook his head.

"Sorry," he murmured.

"You have nothing to be sorry about. It's not your fault."

"Feel like it is…"

She started the car. She tried to think of a response, but could only reassure him he did nothing wrong.

Neither of them spoke for the rest of the ride home.

Later that evening, he lay in bed completely awake. The rituals didn't take him too long that night, so he had the pleasure of being in bed before 11 PM. He could hear his mother's footsteps pacing the kitchen floor downstairs, and snippets of conversation would reach his bedroom. She was probably talking to his father.

"She said it was a combination of things… Don't blame me! Who's to say he didn't get this from you? No, no, I never said that… Don't start with that…"

Needless to say, it didn't help his state of mind.

He still went to see Dr. Murphy every week. In her own words, she wanted to "get to the root of his issues." She mostly asked him more questions, and how he felt about certain things in his life.

"I'll tell you something, Trent," she explained to him one day. "Do you know about coping strategies?"

"Kind of."

"How you cope is how you deal with everyday situations. Everybody handles things differently. Sometimes, people with OCD don't feel like they have a lot of control over their lives. What do you think?"

"I don't know."

He usually couldn't come up with detailed answers.

"Tell me about your dad. Do you spend a lot of time with him?"

"I go there on the weekends. He spends a lot of time with Erin."

"Who is that?" She began to take notes.

"His girlfriend."

"And she lives with your dad?"

"Yup."

"Do you get along with her?"

"I don't really know her. She mostly talks to my dad."

"It seems like you aren't that close with your father."

"I don't know. I guess not."

"Hmm…" She kept writing.

Dr. Murphy also liked to talk about his hobbies, especially music. She thought it would be beneficial for him to focus his efforts on playing the guitar, and since Trent loved playing the guitar, he was inclined to agree.

But most importantly, she tried to explain why his rituals were irrational.

"So, Trent, you believe that if you don't do something nine times, something bad will happen."

"Yeah."

"How?"

"I don't know, it just will."

"It's that connection we have to break. You think that your rituals affect the real world, when there's actually no link."

So they focused on that as well.

It took a long time, but after a year or so, Trent started to see some real progress. His rituals didn't interfere with his day as much as they used to.

Of course, he still had his bad days where he slipped up and his rituals would take him a while, especially when he was stressed or feeling out-of-control. And those days were frustrating, and made his feel like all of his progress meant nothing. But those days were few and far between.

Life got better. He grew older and started high school with all of his friends. Word spread of his musical abilities, which only served to impress the girls in his grade. And sure, he dated casually, but relationships often stressed him out, and stress was the one thing he was trying to avoid. Besides, music would always be his first love.

So, when he decided to audition for Total Drama, he thought a song would be the perfect choice. He didn't actually expect to be chosen. He and his friends just thought it would be funny in an ironic way to send in a tape, so he did it. What he didn't expect, however, was to receive a response that he would be in the first season of Total Drama that summer.

He didn't know what to do. All of his friends (and remember, he was friends with practically the entire school), urged him to do it, but they didn't know the whole story. Would he be able to go that long without seeing his therapist? Would he have to disclose any medical information?

But after some internal debate, he decided to do it. After all, it was a once-in-a-lifetime chance, and it might even jump start his music career. So, he packed his bags and left for Camp Wawanakwa that summer.

When he first arrived on the island, he thought he was surrounded by a bunch of complete weirdos, but some of them turned out to be alright. He tended to get along with everybody, so he had no problems making friends.

Most notable, however, was that girl. The quiet one. What was her name? Oh, right. Gwen. She mostly kept to herself, but he was convinced he could get her to open up. She was actually pretty cool. So yeah, it might have been cheesy, but he wrote a song for her during the talent show challenge, and convinced Cody to let him be her canoe partner. And miraculously, she liked him back, even though he fell asleep almost immediately during the stay-awake-athon, and he left her buried underground (but he was chased by a mime! What was he supposed to do?). It was like a fairy tale romance.

As for his mental well-being, he was doing alright, despite his copious physical injuries. Having the challenges to constantly distract him helped, and he wasn't really there to win. As long as he was having a good time, it didn't matter. He just liked to hang out with his friends and Gwen. It was a good summer.

That was, until Heather came along and ruined it.

She dragged him down to the dock, rambling some nonsense story about Gwen not being who he thought she was or something like that. He was about to tell her off, but just then, she grabbed his shoulders and kissed him right on the mouth.

His chances at winning were pretty much destroyed from that point on.

Gwen saw what happened, and she told Leshawna, who convinced everybody to vote him off. By the time he had a chance to explain the situation, the votes had already been cast, and he was left without a marshmallow.

It didn't feel as bad as he thought it would. Gwen believed him when he said that Heather tricked him, and she had tears in her eyes as Chris led him to the boat. When he looked back, he could see everybody, minus Heather, waving at him. That was all he needed.

So he hung out at the Playa Des Losers for the next month or so. Now that the pressure of constantly being on TV was off, he could finally relax. It was rather uneventful. It was just what he needed.

During the finale, he tried his best to help Gwen win. In the end, it didn't matter. The money was gone, and there would be another season of Total Drama called "Total Drama Action," and he qualified if he wished to compete.

He should have said no. He didn't originally plan to be away from home for this long. He hadn't spoken to his therapist in almost two months, and even though he was feeling alright, that could change at a moments notice. He should have realized his own limitations, cut his losses, and gone home. Nobody would have judged him. He wasn't even supposed to be on the show to begin with, and plenty of other contestants weren't staying for the second season. No, he was done. It was fun, but it was time to leave, and-

"Hey Trent!" Gwen ran up to him and threw her arms around him.

"Oh-um-hey, Gwen. What's up?" She interrupted his thoughts. He tried to force a smile. He didn't tell her yet about his plans to stay out of the competition.

"Aren't you excited?" She smiled up at him. He stared into her eyes. They were so pretty…

"What?" He asked.

"We can finally compete together again! Maybe we'll even be on the same team!" She beamed.

"Oh, right. Actually, about that-"

"What's wrong?" She looked concerned, and in that moment, he couldn't do it. He didn't want to picture the disappointment on her face. Call him lovestruck, but he had to stay.

"Nothing," he smiled. "Absolutely nothing." He kissed her. "You're right. Maybe we can even make it to the finale."

She beamed. "That would be so cool!"

He dreaded the phone call with his mother the next day. Essentially, she begged him to come home, but he held his ground.

"Trent, you said you'd be gone for a maximum of two months. You have to come home."

"I don't _have _to do anything."

"Just," he could hear her sigh on the other side of the line, "I don't think it's good for you. Are you sure you'd be alright?"

"Why wouldn't I be alright?" He dared her to say it out loud. She was silent. "Look, mom, I'll be fine. If anything happens, I'll come home. I promise."

"Well, I guess I can't stop you. Just… please be careful."

"I will."

And so he joined Total Drama Action. When he thinks back on that phone call to his mother, he often wonders if that was the beginning of the end. A clear warning sign he ignored. After all, he auditioned for Total Drama Island as a joke. He had nothing to lose. His goal was to have fun, and he went into it with a relaxed attitude. Total Drama Action wasn't like that at all. He didn't even want to go. Instead of his chill mindset from before, the only thing at the forefront of his mind was how he was going to preserve his relationship with Gwen and keep his anxiety in check. It was a colossal mistake to begin with, and to this day he still kicks himself for not going home when he had the chance.

For starters, he was now incredibly nervous around Gwen. After Island, he made the mistake of looking online and realizing that tons of people were watching their relationship unfold on live TV. It was no longer natural. He wasn't just talking to her, but to the audience as well. It was too much. Any mistake he made would be broadcasted to the entire world. If she left him, everybody would know about it and talk about it and post about it and there would be no escape.

Not only that, but they were put on opposite teams, so he couldn't talk to her as much. Since they had limited interaction, every conversation between them needed to be perfect. There was no room for error.

They didn't get many chances to speak, but do you know who she spent all of her time with?

"Duncan!"

"Hey, Trent, how are ya?"

"I'm doing alright. Shame we're on different teams though."

"I know! Don't worry, I'll keep an eye on Gwen for you."

"Yeah, you do that."

That bastard.

At first, Trent didn't mind that Duncan and Gwen seemed to get along so well. He should be happy that she had a friend on her team.

And then he started to have doubts, which was never good.

What did the audience think about his girlfriend hanging out with some other guy? Who's to say that there wasn't something going on? After all, Trent had only known her for two months, and Duncan seemed sketchy at best. Even if he trusted her, did he trust him?

_No, no. Stop it. Talk to her. _

So one night, he pulled Gwen aside and asked her straight up if she had feelings for Duncan. Maybe it wasn't the best approach, but he didn't really know what else to do. Besides, the cameras were watching no matter what.

"What? Me and… Duncan? No way," she shook her head.

"Are you sure? I won't be upset, I just want you to be honest with me."

"Trent, I swear. I don't have feelings for Duncan."

What else could he do? Keep pressing the issue and make it seem like he didn't trust her?

"Well, alright. I believe you."

"Love you," she kissed him.

"Love you too," he mumbled.

But he couldn't shake the feeling that something was off, and later that night, when Gwen and Duncan were laughing together at dinner, he felt powerless to do anything about it.

That night, he took nine steps from the door of the cabin to his bed. He didn't want to do it, but it calmed him down, his fears about losing Gwen put aside for the moment.

So maybe _that _was actually the beginning of the end.

Trent soon learned that not only was Duncan a threat, but he was also a total asshole. How he didn't realize it sooner was beyond him. A few days later, during breakfast, Duncan took the opportunity to unscrew the salt cap, causing Trent to spill it everywhere. He glared at Duncan as he threw some of it over his shoulder, blinding poor Heather, but Duncan merely scoffed and took an egg from Trent's plate, changing the number from nine to eight.

"Don't do that," he scowled.

"Oh? Why not?" Duncan smiled innocently.

Trent desperately wanted to say something, but there were cameras watching, so he let it be.

"It's just annoying," Trent rolled his eyes as Gwen came over to eat with him.

"Your boyfriend's super weird, Gwen," Duncan declared.

"Whatever, I like his weirdness," Gwen responded, which lifted Trent's spirits a bit.

That day's challenge was pretty rough. Trent's team was getting killed, and at one point, Gwen and Duncan even hugged, which hurt to watch.

When it was time to take the bus back to Camp Wawanakwa and build sand castles, Trent couldn't help himself. He put nine flags on his team's castle. He had to do something to calm himself down.

"Why nine flags?" Beth asked in confusion.

"I don't know. I just think it would look nice," Trent tried to explain.

"I know why," Duncan declared to the cast, "it's because that's the number of letters in Trent's name and Gwen's name added together." Gwen stared at Trent wide-eyed.

"That's not why," Trent frowned. "It would make the castle look nice."

"Whatever, man."

When the teams tied in the sand castle challenge, Chris ordered them to gather wood from the forest. Trent assumed there would be no way anybody would notice if he carried back nine sticks, so he went for it. He supposed that was the problem. Once he realized he could do some of his compulsions on Total Drama, he couldn't stop himself, and it snowballed out of control until he was counting the dams sticks in his arms.

He was supposed to meet up with Gwen in the woods.

"Hey, Gwen! Good job on the challenge today!" He called out to her, but the moment she saw him, she panicked and ran in the other direction. It was not only bizarre, but it only served to fuel Trent's anxiety. Why would she do that? Unless she believed that stupid thing Duncan said about the letters in their names? But surely she wouldn't, right?

"I don't get it," he recounted the story to Owen later that day. "Why would she freak out like that?"

"It's obvious, Trent," Owen smiled. "Girls like to win."

"What does that have to do with anything?" Trent was puzzled.

"Buddy," Owen told him, "if you want to make Gwen happy again, she has to win."

Taking advice from Owen was probably a bad idea, but Trent figured he would make it work. If she wanted to win, he would just throw the challenges for her. He didn't care about losing, as long as she stayed with him. So, during the dancing challenge that afternoon, he fell on purpose, giving Leshawna the point.

That evening, he met up again with Gwen in the forest.

"Gwen, what's been going on? Why have you been acting so weird?" He asked her.

"Well," she looked down at the ground, "I don't know. I guess with the thing Duncan said about our names-"

"Really? You believed that? It's a complete coincidence."

"And how you keep using the number nine-"

"It's just my lucky number, nothing more."

"You're sure?"

"Of course."

"Ok. I guess I overreacted."

"It's alright," he reassured her. But just as they were about to kiss, they heard a rustle in the branched, and Owen was watching them.

"Stop being a creep!" Gwen yelled at him as Trent threw a few branches. They laughed together, and it felt natural. It felt good. For once, he felt reassured that everything would work out.

So why was he getting worse? He never had these issues with the number nine on Total Drama Island, but now, he was worse than he had been in months. He was counting his steps again, counting his food, and for what? So Gwen wouldn't cheat on him? Screw that, people were going to realize his compulsions on national television whether she cheated or not unless he put a stop to it, fast. Was he going to throw away years of therapy for this show that he wasn't even going to do in the first place?

Their next challenge was based on old western movies. Trent will forever remember it clearly. Gwen had a cold, so he gave her a bit of his water, and he wiped the bottle nine times. She definitely noticed.

He still threw the challenges for her. He wasn't sure if she realized it, but looking back, she must have known. The look she gave him after Chris announced the winner revealed everything. It was too late for him to care.

She asked him to meet up with her while everybody else was in the showers. Justin was definitely listening in, he was partly visible through the bushes. He pretty much knew where this was heading.

"Look, Trent," she rubbed her hands together. "You're a great guy and all, but I know what you've been doing, and-"

"We should break up."

"What?" She looked up at him, shocked that he had suggested it first.

"Yup. I don't think we should see each other anymore."

Screw it. No amount of rituals would ever prevent a relationship between her and Duncan, and he couldn't bear to have his mental issues revealed on live television.

"Oh, well, yes. That's actually what I was going to say."

"Then I agree with you. Actually, give me a moment. Hey, everyone! If you could all gather around! I have an announcement to make!" He shouted out to all of the campers returning from the showers. "Even you, Justin!" Trent yelled into the bushes, and Justin emerged looking perfect.

"Now that I have everyone's attention, I would like to tell you all that I have been throwing my teams challenges in order to help Gwen. She had nothing to do with it, it was all my idea, I just thought you should know. That's all."

It was a really awkward moment of silence as everyone looked around uncomfortably to see if he was kidding, but when he confirmed it again, the other campers just shrugged. After all, it guaranteed they weren't the ones going home that night.

He was eliminated at the next elimination ceremony. It felt great.

He still had to go on Aftermath, but he was beyond caring at that point. He just gave some excuse that he threw the challenges for love and that he used the number nine because it was John Lennon's lucky number or some bullshit like that. He couldn't care less, as long as he got out of that studio and back home. He didn't even watch the rest of the season. He was just done.

A few months later, he received a call from Chris asking if he wanted to be in the next season of Total Drama, "Total Drama World Tour."

Trent hung up on him without a second thought.

FIN


End file.
